An Injury Borne of Foolishness
by DrummerDancer
Summary: Maybe she hadn't ruined their night after all.


Title: An Injury Borne of Foolishness  
>Author: drummerdancer<br>Verse: None  
>CharactersPairings: Edward/Winry  
>Word Count: 913<br>Rating: K  
>Summary: Maybe she hadn't ruined their night after all.<p>

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><p>Even though she knew he didn't dance, Winry still decided to drag him out on the dance floor. It wouldn't be <em>that <em>bad, she reasoned. Sure, the leg was clunky and not built for dancing, but if he could do flips and somersaults gracefully through the air, he could surely more his feet in time to the music.

Right?

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><p><em>An hour later…<em>

"I'm so sorry, Winry!" Edward apologized for the millionth time, shifting the icepack around on her swollen foot. It was hard to tell exactly what color it was due to the darkness of the club and the sporadic lighting it featured, but if Winry had to guess, she'd say it was a purplish-blue color. She flinched as the icepack was moved on the more tender part of her foot, but she didn't complain; it was her own stupid fault for insisting that Ed dance with her despite his protests.

Still, the knowledge that she'd ruined their night didn't lessen the pain.

"It's—_ah!—_okay," she flinched, her hand going out to massage the skin surrounding the bruising.

To her surprise, Edward batted her hand away. "No; it's my fault you're hurt, and it's my responsibility to make you better. You just sit there and…get better, you hear?"

Winry stared in somewhat muted shock as Edward shifted the icepack to his right hand and used his flesh hand to massaging the area Winry had been about to. "Is this where it hurts?"

His skin was so much smoother than hers was. The image of her grandmother scolding her for working on automail without her gloves on popped into her head, and she wondered if perhaps her hands would've been smooth like his if she'd dutifully obeyed that rule.

"Yeah; and a little higher, too," she mumbled, suddenly feeling very awkward underneath his hands. Sure, she touched him all the time when working on his automail, but when's the last time _he_ had touched _her? _Nothing in recent memory, that was for sure. And to be under his golden gaze and worried frown for even a fraction of a second…Winry couldn't help her next actions.

"I think I may have hit my shin when I fell," she groaned, leaning back in her chair as she placed a hand on her forehead.

The response was immediate; Edward's flesh hand inched up her leg, resting on her lower leg as he kneaded the skin on her shin and calf.

"Right here?" he asked.

She nodded. His touch sent shivers down her spine, like electricity across a cable or lightening down a rod. And he didn't hesitate to touch her one bit; Ed dug his knuckles in, relieving what he thought was pain by massaging his fingers thoroughly through her skin.

His fingers slid up under the hollow of her knee, causing her to bite down a groan. She had always been extra sensitive there, though whether or not Edward knew that was up for grabs at this point. She just wanted this to never end.

Unfortunately, it did end, and much too soon at that. Edward's hand stopped as he got to his feet, placing the melted icepack on the table as he looked down at her seated form.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, his eyes trailing scrutinizingly down her body.

She blushed, though she was positive he couldn't see it. "Yeah, just let me get my shoe on."

Gingerly, she placed her heeled shoe back on her still swollen foot. It barely fit with all the swelling, but there wasn't much she could do at the moment. Rolling her ankle once, she readied herself for the walk home, cursing herself for all the trouble she'd caused because of her stupid wish to dance with Edward. Walking home on this foot was going to be unbearable.

Winry made to stand, but Edward quickly pushed her back down in her seat. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked angrily.

She frowned at him. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm standing up so we can walk home!"

He shook his head, then pointedly looked down at her foot. "You aren't walking home, idiot. Not with your foot looking like that."

Edward turned and crouched down beside her, moving his ponytail to the left.

"Get on."

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was a good idea. They were nearly a mile and a half away from the hotel; he surely didn't think he'd be able to carry her all that way, right? But then she reminded herself that this was Edward Elric, the only human alive who didn't have body fat or a pain threshold. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt her body go into the air, her legs wrapped tightly around his torso. His hands grabbed the underside of her thighs, keeping her close and upright.

"Ready?" he asked, craning his neck back to see her.

She nodded, her body relishing in all of the physical contact she was getting with Edward. It was ironic, in a way, that her getting injured actually granted her more closeness with him than the event that caused it, the dancing. When they'd been out on the floor, Edward had been awkward and stiff, avoiding her personal space like the plague. But when she'd been injured…Edward had had no problem with touching her then.

Winry smiled into his neck. Perhaps the night hadn't been ruined after all.


End file.
